


the walls are crumbling (I struggle with myself)

by girlsarewolves



Series: exchanges [7]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Coping, F/M, Fic Exchange, HetSwap, Introspection, Making Out, Older Woman/Younger Man, Post-Canon, Slow Build, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trauma, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-05-28 07:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: In the aftermath of the attempted invasion, Elizabeth Burke deals with spotty memory, guilt, and inappropriate feelings.





	the walls are crumbling (I struggle with myself)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hecate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/gifts).



> Dear Reader, I hope you enjoy this! I tried to find a balance of focusing on Elizabeth dealing with the aftermath of the aliens as well as feelings for Zeke, and I hope that you are happy with the product!

* * *

Her memory was foggy, at best. At best, because she liked it better when she didn’t remember; she liked it better when she couldn’t recall phantom pains and the absolutely terrifying sensation of her head being disconnected from her body, of all the awful, hurtful things she said, all the inappropriate wants she gave into or tried to. So she tried hard to stay safely in that shroud of blurred memories, fragments that didn’t make sense and it’s best not to focus on anyway. She tried hard to hold onto the large, gaping holes in her recollection.

She was questioned over and over, but she kept insisting she didn’t remember, she couldn’t recall, it’s all so fuzzy, her mind’s a blank. The doctors wouldn’t push, but the cops prodded and pried at her for more, the FBI agents were even worse, invasive, questioning her and then studying her for silent minutes that dragged on endlessly after each insistence that she could not give them the answers they wanted. 

Elizabeth Burke was a mild-mannered, insecure, shy teacher who would never hurt anyway, had never wanted to hurt or humiliate anyone, and she couldn’t remember anything that the parasites controlling her, taking over her body, made her do.

They took samples, of course. Blood and tissue and other things she didn’t want to dwell on. They studied her, kept her in the hospital for observation; the hospital was overflowing with all the people they had to keep for observation. Neighboring towns offered to let the overflow board at their hospitals, but the FBI quickly shut that down, instead setting up tents, giving their town the feeling of being the site of disaster relief or a quarantine. 

The entire town came to a grinding halt for several days, a nightmare of confusion and disbelief and near panic that men in black suits rushed in to try to hush before word got out of their little podunk town and to the press.

They failed of course. They kept news out of the loop for almost as long as it took for their town to be able to resume being just a little podunk town. And then, somehow, once everything that the government needed to get their hands on was whisked away, and all the locals were shown to be regular, ordinary humans with nothing to show for being hijacked by alien parasites, they all went back to normal. News outlets - local and state and national and even a few international - were making it difficult of course, trying to bring to light the truth of the matter, but the truth of it all was only clearly known by a few teenagers, and they were easy to discredit. It was all too easy to cover up what really had happened, when nearly everyone involved couldn’t clearly - or didn’t want to - remember. 

Life in their small, football obsessed town moved on. People - whether because they didn’t remember or just couldn’t acknowledge out loud, to others, what had happened - were moving on, despite the hungry reporters flocking their like vultures.

So Elizabeth Burke moved on. She went home and took her last sick day before school resumed to go over her notes and remember where they were and just pretend that everything was normal - not back to normal, not returning to some semblance of normal after something impossible and traumatizing and earth-shattering, but normal, always normal, nothing had happened, and she certainly couldn’t remember any of it even if it had. She worked on her lesson plan and what assignments to give the kids, and avoided sleep as long as possible, afraid of the flashes of memory that might come back to her once she drifted off. 

And when she returned to school, she didn’t let herself think about all the awful things that had happened there - whether real or imagined, from her memories or her nightmares, she couldn’t really be sure.

But then Zeke Tyler walked into her classroom. His eyes caught hers and held for a moment, something knowing flickering in them before they lowered, before Zeke ducked his head down, looking away from her. _Zeke_ looked away first this time, like he couldn’t stand the weight of her gaze and not the other way around.

For a moment she could remember - just fragments, moments - shoving him, degrading him, grabbing him, almost having him - and she had to look away, too. Nausea boiled in her belly, her vision spinning as her face grew hot. A whirlwind of emotions stirred up, but the worst of it was the combination of shame and want.

Shame at what she had done. A want for more. Shame that she still wanted.

The parasites had made her do things she never would have done - but what scared her the most was that beyond the violence fueled by self-preservation, everything else they’d made her do were only things she’d wanted to give into at some point or another.

She wanted to put Zeke in his place.

She wanted something cherry. On him.

All her plans for class were put on hold until the next day, and Elizabeth had simply put on a movie for the kids to watch before excusing herself. She swore she could feel a certain pair of eyes following her as she left, felt her skin burning with shame and embarrassment, wondered how many of the kids remembered, how many of her students recalled all the awful things she’d said and done.

Did it really matter if anyone else remembered? Or how many of them did? _Zeke_ remembered. Zeke remembered more clearly than even she did.

As if she was some silly teenager and not the teacher, the authority figure - she rushed to the bathroom to hide away until it was time for her class to end. Tucked away in the last stall, counting down the minutes, breathing in deep, slow breaths to try and keep from devolving into a full blown panic attack. If she closed her eyes, she was back there, in that moment on the school grounds outside, her mouth moving, her voice speaking, but something else saying the words, moving her body around. She pinched the loose skin over the back of her hand, pulling it up and letting go to try and anchor herself back in the present, reminding herself that she was in control again, not hijacked by alien parasites.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered after checking her watch for the umpteenth time and realizing she’d been hiding in there for only fifteen minutes. “I am an adult woman. And that was not me.”

But the problem was, Elizabeth could remember enough of what had happened to not know that for sure. From her scattered memories and what she’d heard from others about the events of the attempted invasion, some had been transformed into completely different people - the coach, for example, seemed calmer and more understanding. 

Those who were shy were suddenly outgoing. Those who were pushy became more patient. But then some who were mean remained mean, and some who were confident remained on top. There wasn’t a perfect pattern of ‘becoming better people’ or becoming the version of themselves they wanted to be. 

She assumed that part of it was the parasites knowing there had to be an order retained so as not to set off alarm bells. The social hierarchy had to stay in balance - just make people happier and more complacent in their roles. Everyone accepted their lot in life, so there was no need to enforce through aggression.

So how much of their actions had been the parasites pretending to be them, and how much of it had been the parasites acting out how they wanted to be, was in question for her.

Not that she really thought coach deep down wanted to be a nicer person who didn’t scream at the slightest offense - but she couldn’t deny that part of her wanted to be more assertive, to bite back when Zeke wounded her.

That maybe she was too emotionally invested in his education, his life choices - in him. 

“I’m an awful teacher.” Elizabeth rubbed her temples and sunk into that thought, ignoring when her brain weakly offered up attempts at logic to make her feel better - like the fact that she was recently traumatized by what should have been impossible events, and so it wasn’t the time to go so hard on herself, and also she might be biased and unable to think clearly. She was definitely unable to think clearly, so she ignored logic and stayed right there in that thought of what a failure of a teacher she was - attracted to a student. It didn’t matter that he was, technically, a legal adult and older than all her other students - a student was a student, and there was a considerable age gap between them.

“I’m a cougar,” she sulked, falling to her side until her shoulder and head connected with the wall. She was too busy feeling guilty and sorry for herself to care that she was leaning against the filthy wall of a public school bathroom stall. 

Thinking about being a cougar was normal. Well, sort of normal. More normal than thinking about being possessed by aliens. More normal than dwelling on those thoughts, on the very terrifying reality that she had been maimed in a way that should have killed her. So she stayed there, in those thoughts, still reeling from everything and focusing on the parts that, while making her feel like a failure of a human being, were at least within the realm of possibility, that were easier for her mind to wrap around.

Eventually the door creaked loudly to announce someone else had entered the room, and Elizabeth took in a shuddering breath and wiped at her face, suddenly aware that her cheeks were wet - she had no idea when she had started crying - and braced herself to just go out and face her classroom like a responsible adult. After all, her students had been through it, too, and they needed strong authority figures to look to and - oh, who was she kidding? They weren’t going to seek her out for that.

Two feet stood facing her stall, the darker colors and size cluing her in that it was not a female student or other teacher standing out there, waiting.

Elizabeth sniffled quickly and wiped at her eyes more, breathing deep, frantically trying to calm herself and get herself presentable without it being obvious she was a wreck in the restrooms - but she had been there for at least twenty minutes, her sniffles still echoing in the stall, it was more than obvious what a mess she currently was.

“Miss Burke, um, I know I’m probably not the person you want to see right now. And I can’t say I blame you. I’ve been a real dick to you. But if you want, or need, to talk about what happened and everyone else is trying to pretend like shit’s normal and nothing happened...well, you know where I am most of the time. Uh, anyway, I better go before I get suspended again for sneaking into the girls’ restroom.”

The two sneakers on the other side of the door moved away, out of sight. The sticky squeaks of the soles walking along the floor grew more distant, moving towards the door.

“Zeke?”

The noise stopped, and if she listened hard enough, she could hear his breathing. 

“Yes?”

“...thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

It had not started out as something inappropriate.

Elizabeth’s interest in Zeke had stemmed from the moments in class when he would answer one of the questions posed to the students, and his actual intellect would shine through - even if through rather unconventional means of explanation or some kind of crude metaphor.

Several of the faculty knew Zeke’s parents. Or, rather, they knew his mother and his step-father - only Mrs. Tyler and Zeke and, possibly the man himself, knew who Zeke’s biological father actually was. Though whether Zeke knew the identity of his father or just simply that he was the product of an affair was a favorite gossip topic in the town. It was an awkward situation, made only more awkward by the fact that both Tyler adults were often away - Mr. Tyler on business and Mrs. Tyler on...anything but - leaving Zeke to fend for himself.

It explained so much about his attitude, his problems, his acting out - but he was so smart, so clever, that when he failed his senior year, Elizabeth was stumped.

Zeke was too smart to be stuck in their football oriented high school, in a football obsessed town, in a home where he obviously didn’t have much parenting even when they were there. He was too intelligent to be stuck with the rumors and gossip that followed him wherever he went. 

It just didn’t make sense.

So Elizabeth took notice. Tried to be patient and encouraging - and, at times, tried to be firm and tried to set boundaries. She knew he needed someone to be an authority figure in his life, and everyone else at that school had already marked him a lost cause. Elizabeth, though, she knew he wasn’t - or at least, he didn’t have to be. She stepped in - and _slipped up_ \- and got emotionally invested in her student’s well being and future.

But she was ill-suited for being assertive, and Zeke was a shark that could smell her weaknesses like blood in the water. Elizabeth was well qualified for the teaching part of being a teacher, not so much for everything else. Shy, insecure, skittish, she was a pushover. It wasn’t just Zeke that picked up on those flaws, every high schooler knew which teacher was a doormat and which ones weren’t - but Zeke, especially, knew how to push buttons and picked up quickly where the exposed nerves were.

Elizabeth suspected that it was something he’d learned early on as a defense mechanism. Perhaps he’d learned it from being the victim of it at home.

That did not lessen the blow when he pushed back at her attempts at being a figure of authority and trying to enforce rules and regulations, or when she tried to encourage him to engage more with school. 

Despite his crassness and irreverence towards any kind of authority or structure and how easy it was for him to pick her apart, there were those moments where he did engage. Where he would put forth a little effort. Where he would speak up as she desperately tried to get someone, anyone, in her class to discuss their current subject. Where his intellect would shine through, and all that untapped potential he was just...wasting would be so obvious to her, and Elizabeth would feel something stir in her that she chalked up to a mentor’s affection.

It had started that way, she’s certain of it. As something innocent and earnest and positive. But Elizabeth had a bad habit of letting her emotions get the better of her and growing attached to people and things that were unattainable or downright wrong for her. Somewhere along the line, those dark eyes and waggling eyebrows and suggestive comments didn’t just upset her, they got to her. 

She told herself he was just trying to get under her skin and all those remarks and looks meant nothing. The fact that he responded to her class the best and with the most engagement indicated a favorite subject - that her attempts at reaching him were working on purely an academic level, while the other teachers didn’t put in any effort. 

That was all.

It meant nothing.

It was purely professional.

And even if that wasn’t the case - she was a teacher, she was the adult, the elder, the one in a position of power over the other. The fact that Zeke was almost nineteen did not diminish the age gap between them or erase the power imbalance of their respective roles.

Even though Zeke was the more assertive one.

Even though she was the one that always backed down, walked away.

At least, until an extraterrestrial parasite hijacked her body and acted out some of her darkest fantasies and desires, giving her the shiny spine she’d always wanted, and robbing her of the victory of it, leaving her with nothing but the shame and the guilt of going too far. That in turn mixed with the shame and the guilt of the fact that she was romantically and sexually attracted to one of her students.

So there she was on a Friday night, watching the news discuss the likelihood of a small town pulling off such an enormous hoax, wishing it was just that easy - that those few days were a nightmare only, and none of it had ever happened, it was just some big prank, some attention seeking mistake - while curled up on her couch, failing to focus on the papers she needed to grade. She had essays to read, but all she could think about was Zeke and aliens and memories that felt like out of body experiences.

Outside it was a sauna, late September nights still hot and muggy well past sunset. Her small, pitiful window unit hummed loudly as it tried to offer some comfort from the heat, and a glass of ice water was sweating all over her coffee table, starting to seep into a few of the essay papers strewn about.

Elizabeth didn’t see Zeke again after her class - when she returned to the classroom his seat was empty, and she couldn’t blame him if he’d simply bailed on the rest of the school day. Everyone was getting some extra leeway for a week or two after the mess they’d been through, so even the other teachers weren’t going to hold his absence against him if he failed to show for his other classes. And by the time she’d finally left the building, the only ones still there were a few other teachers, and those from the cheer squad and football team who’d bothered coming to practice.

It was probably for the best. Their moment in the restroom was appreciated, but Elizabeth wasn’t about to put her burdens on one of her students, especially one who was dealing with his own issues and had been through traumatic events as well. Including a few uncomfortable moments that she had caused - whether it had been her or something pretending to be her didn’t matter.

Besides - people recovering from trauma could sometimes act out in unhealthy ways, find bad methods of coping, seek out others to find comfort with - and she wasn’t about to put herself in a potentially compromising position.

Firm boundaries had to be kept in place.

Especially when seeing Zeke brought so many memories back. 

She had _died_.

She had been dismembered, a body and a head, separate, and yet there she was, sitting on her sofa, trying and failing to grade papers, her small apartment too stuffy from the stubborn heat refusing to give in to autumn for her to be able to get comfortable. 

She had nearly killed Zeke.

She had assaulted other students, other people in the town, to spread the parasites.

She’d been assaulted by Principal Drake, possessed by those things, and infected to become a host as well.

Now Principal Drake was dead. And somehow she wasn’t. And everyone was just...going about their business, their day to day lives, like they hadn’t been quarantined off by the government and the men in black only to prove less than useful for study or experimentation, forced to sign waivers and coerced by the threat of making them disappear to keep them quiet. It was insanity, but then so was what they’d been through - and that it was so easy and tempting to just...pretend, and she understood that, she did. It was safer, ignoring all that had happened - but seeing Zeke up close again, being near him, did nothing to help her pretend or forget, he made it worse.

Elizabeth didn’t want to remember. And if she was around Zeke, she’d remember. And if she remembered around Zeke, she might do something stupid and reckless to try and stop those memories, to quiet down all those anxieties and fears and regrets, and then she’d just wind up with more.

But damn it, she wanted to let loose.

It hadn’t all been bad, had it? She’d - that thing inside her, using her - had gone too far, but some of it had been fun, hadn’t it?

And after all that mess, what was a little dallying with a student who was a damn adult? Only if he wanted it too, and she was pretty certain he did, but what if it was all just him screwing with her, what if he just felt bad now - “Fuck.” 

Elizabeth gathered up the essays and stacked them on the sofa, far from the damp surface of the coffee table, turned off the tv, and tossed the remote aside before leaning back into the stiff cushioning, hands rubbing over her face. She was a mess. And maybe it was understandable, but she did not want to be like this. She did not want to be dealing with any of this, and she wasn’t sure she was equipped to cope. How did one cope with this kind of trauma, anyway?

Aliens? Being maimed and dismembered in a way that should have killed her? Back before the near invasion, her biggest problem had been inappropriate feelings for a student - a mighty big problem, but also a very human and not completely abnormal one, either. And she’d been able to force it into the back of her mind by focusing on lesser problems. Now _that_ was the lesser problem, because she had been taken over by an _extraterrestrial being_ and _decapitated_ and _put back together_.

She needed a drink.

* * *

The week passed by, the weekend came and went. Time moved on, turning the incident - as Elizabeth referred those few days where their town was overtaken by aliens - from some kind of strange and terrifying fever dream she only partially remembered to a distant reality that somehow felt both less and more real. The more time that passed, the further removed from it they all were - and yet, the consequences were everywhere, even as town tried to return to normal there were reminders everywhere of what had taken place. 

How was she supposed to go back to daily life when reality was sinking in, like a rock sinking down into the pit of her belly, a heavy and uncomfortable feeling that persisted no matter how much she and everyone around her pretended that nothing had changed?

Many of the teachers and students had been sporadic in their attendance. Not that it would be held against them, not for the first week after what had happened. They all had their limits of how much pretending they were able to do before they cracked. 

Zeke had put in perfect attendance after that first day back, and Elizabeth had managed to resume her lesson plans - as well as grading all those papers. There had been odd, intense looks between them, full of something besides shared knowledge of events that had gone down that only they knew about, but Elizabeth couldn’t put her finger on it - or maybe she was afraid to.

His offer remained on the table, but she felt selfish to take it, to go to Zeke - a student - for comfort and support. 

The fact that she harbored an inappropriate attraction to him also complicated matters, but she liked to think even without the fear she might cross a line she shouldn’t cross, she wouldn’t lean on a student for emotional support when really she should be supporting him. 

Was it so selfish, though? Who said it had to be one-sided - perhaps Zeke reached out to her because it would help him, also? Maybe it would be cathartic for him - maybe seeing an adult struggling and not pretending everything was fine was something Zeke needed. Some kind of sign that it had happened, that it did affect people, that struggling with what had happened was okay, normal, healthy.

That was on her mind Monday evening, finishing up for the day, making plans to finally talk to Zeke again after the next class, see how he was - it wasn’t as though talking to him meant she would go too far, after all - when the harsh sound of a throat being cleared broke through the silence of the room beyond the rustling of papers.

Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin, a startled gasp rushing out of her lungs and hand flying to her chest where her heart was now going a mile a minute.

“Whoa, whoa, sorry. Just me, Miss Burke,” Zeke spoke in a soft tone, hands up as he stood in the doorway - dressed in a football uniform.

Zeke didn’t play football. Zeke didn’t play any sports.

Her confusion must have been clear - she was easy to ready, she knew that - because Zeke glanced down at the uniform, shoulders shrugging as he gave her a lopsided grin. “Stranger things have happened. Figured I could use a better outlet than making mostly harmless drugs in my garage.”

“Is it helping?” 

Another shrug, but this time he followed that with taking a step into the classroom. “It’s not so bad. I’m better at it than Coach thought I’d be. Not as good as it as I’d like to brag about.” 

Elizabeth smiled faintly at that. “I’m glad that you’ve found something to focus yourself on. You need challenges.” She studied him, took in the return of that natural swagger and nonchalant, carefree aura - and realized it wasn’t quite as genuine as it used to be. She saw a young man putting on a show, trying to return to what was normal and safe.

Or maybe it had always been more of an act than even she had believed - she’d known he was much smarter than he presented, but even she might have overestimated how much of his arrogance and carefree attitude was bravado, a mask, a show. Maybe now the cracks were just a little bit wider, a little more noticeable.

“Yeah. Guess I do.” He sounded softer there, more uncertain, head ducking down as he took a few more steps into the classroom. “What about you, Miss Burke? What is it you need?”

Oh.

Oh, that was - well, that was complicated, and not really something he should be saying to her, or any student for that matter but especially not him.

Elizabeth swallowed, her turn to bow her head now as her cheeks grew hot at the implications of that question. “Oh, Zeke - I appreciate you asking. I appreciate you checking on me and the apology, but - I should be making sure you’re okay, not the other way around. And I want you to know it’s okay to still be struggling to cope with what happened. You don’t have to pretend everything is normal.”

Zeke let out a soft chuckle, holding up his helmet. “This isn’t exactly my definition of normal, Miss Burke.” He grew somber again though, and finally came to sit at the desk directly across from her, leaning forward on his elbows. “I don’t know how much you remember, but judging from the way you’ve been acting, I’d say you remember some of it. And I know that some of it was pretty fucking intense. Hell, when it was over, I wasn’t sure if you’d…” He went quiet then, eyes lowering as he swallowed - and he was someone completely different, someone lost and scared and worried, a side of Zeke she had never seen before. “I honestly wasn’t sure if you’d live once the parasites were dead. But I’m glad you did.”

Elizabeth could only sit there in silence for several moments, touched by Zeke’s concern, the open and vulnerable show of emotion. She was speechless. Even the part of her that had thought perhaps this very much unwanted attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided had not expected this. Not that she thought Zeke was so...lacking in compassion or empathy, that he would not be affected by seeing someone dismembered.

“Thank you, Zeke. I’m just glad that I didn’t hurt you or anyone else any worse.” She hesitated, knowing very well that she could be crossing boundaries that could lead to further crossing of boundaries, but screw it, they’d survived an alien invasion, and he was nineteen, and also they both could use some human compassion, for God’s sake. Elizabeth stood and came to sit down at the desk next to where he was seated, scooting it closer and laying her hands over his. “What happened was...honestly, I am still struggling to wrap my mind around it. I can only imagine what it must be like for you and the others who went through all that insanity and violence and remember everything. And I know that I said some...very hurtful things. And while I might have been upset with you for the way you acted towards me, I did not and do not want to hurt you like that.”

Zeke’s jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed, listening to her but staring down at their hands touching with such intensity she wondered if she was making him uncomfortable.

She started to pull away when he shifted in the chair and raised his hands to her face, cupping, holding her there as his mouth pressed against hers.

Oh.

_Oh no_.

Oh, this was not good.

Actually, it was very good, and that was the _problem_.

She was kissing a student - or, well, a student was kissing her but semantics did not matter in this situation - and it was _incredibly_ nice, and she wanted to _keep doing it_ , and that was _bad_. Very, very bad.

“Zeke,” she whispered when their mouths parted - but then his mouth moved to her jaw.

Oh, that was nice.

“Zeke, we can’t…”

His mouth was down to her pulse, teeth biting down just a little as it raced.

“Oh, Zeke...no, no stop, we cannot do this.”

Her hands moved to his shoulders - or more aptly, the shoulder pads of his football uniform, but instead of pushing him away they just gripped at his jersey, her body stubbornly betraying her and not doing enough to discourage him. The fact that every word she said came out in a breathy moan wasn’t helping, either.

“Zeke…”

“I know, I know,” he replied, his voice strained, hoarse, and oh, _fuck_ , she couldn’t help the wave of arousal that washed over her and finally pooled in her lower abdomen. His mouth lingered over her pulse, kissing, suckling lightly, his hands in her hair. “I’ve thought about this for two years. I’m just an asshole when it comes to emotions.”

“That is,” Elizabeth swallowed, licked her lips, finally uncurling her fingers from their vice grip on his jersey and pushing him back as she slowly caught her breath. “That isn’t appropriate to say, Zeke.” She disentangled herself from him, begrudgingly, already missing the feel of his mouth on her skin. “This is - we can’t.”

“I’m nineteen, Miss Burke.”

“And I’m a lot older. And still your teacher. And I would be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t full of butterflies right now, and the thought never crossed my mind even when you were awful to me, and that I don’t care about you as more than just my student. But we cannot cross that line.”

Zeke slouched back in the seat, running a hand through his hair and letting out a deep, heavy breath. “Yeah. I know. At least until I graduate.” He looked at her with that smug, boyish grin she knew too well. “But after that, the whole ‘I’m older’ reason doesn’t mean jack shit to me, Miss Burke. After that, you’re Elizabeth, I’m Zeke, and we can do whatever we want.”

She opened her mouth to argue. She meant to tell him that things could change, that he might find someone else, that she might find someone else, or that her inappropriate feelings for him could go away. She _meant_ to dissuade him, give him a firm no, not going to happen, get out now. Instead, what she heard herself saying was, “Okay, but first you have to graduate.”

Zeke smirked at her, and that natural swagger was back, a confidence in him that she knew was genuine. “I can do that.”

Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes, realizing what she’d done. She’d given him hope. She’d given herself hope. She might not have crossed the line fully, but she definitely was sticking her toes in the water on the other side of it. Her shoulders slumped and, not even caring how it looked, Elizabeth leaned forward until her forehead hit the desk. “I should not be encouraging this.”

A hand stroked her hair, slow, gentle. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The question didn’t come across like an accusation, like an attempt to put the blame squarely on her shoulders. He sounded sincerely concerned that he’d overstepped.

“No. That’s the problem.”

“Is it really a problem? After everything that went down, don’t you think you deserve something that feels good? Something you want?” Oh, oh that line of thinking was dangerous and full of temptation. “I’m not saying we gotta have sex on your desk right now, as much fun as that might be,” he added, and she could hear the suggestive smirk in his tone of voice.

“That’s so gross,” she mumbled, but mostly she sounded sulky - and that was probably because she wasn’t grossed out, she was flushed with embarrassment and a little desire. Maybe a little more than a little. 

“Does it help take your mind off the other stuff?”

Yes. But she didn’t want to admit that. “We shouldn’t be indulging in things that are bad for us as a way of coping or distracting.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Elizabeth sat back up, chewing on her lip. “Right now, yes. After graduation...it’s still not good but, I suppose it isn’t necessarily bad, or wrong.” She turned her head towards him, noticing now how he looked a little flushed himself, dark eyes even darker. It made her feel...odd. Sexy? It was a weird feeling, and she hated how much she liked it. “If we both still want this after graduation, then, you’re right. We can do whatever we want. Until then, no more. But, if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here for you.”

He swallowed, the hand touching her hair moving to tuck a few strands behind her ear. “Same to you.” He leaned over, slowly, smiling again - but it was softer this time, not cocky or teasing. “I mean it. We survived some real fucked up shit, Miss Burke. I don’t think this ranks anywhere on the fucked up meter in this town anymore, if it ever did at all.”

She had to admit - he was probably right.

And maybe after everything, they did deserve something that made them happy. Something that felt good. Maybe  _ she _ deserved that. 

Elizabeth Burke was really looking forward to graduation.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the fic is a reworded lyric from Meredith Brooks' 'What Would Happen' which...is probably way more on the 'resolved sexual tension' scale than this fic actually is.


End file.
